Shortcomings
by TeaSippinSpirit
Summary: Eliot and Quentin are Kings of Fillory, and sometimes they get bored and find ways to entertain themselves. And sometimes they catch feelings.
Quentin can't believe that he keeps finding himself here. In the land where Alice died, getting sucked off by one of the people he slept with that caused their falling out. It's so massively fucked up that even he can't fully comprehend it. And that's when he doesn't have a masterful tongue dancing around the tip of his cock. At the moment, his mind is absolute mush.

Eliot is down on his knees; his mouth working Quentin perfectly with that expert style that Quentin is pretty sure comes naturally for the older man. The room is warm and quiet save for the crackling fire and Quentin's puffing breaths.

He could be embarrassed by the fact that Eliot is able to reduce him to a shuddering mess in a matter of seconds, but he can't really be bothered by that right now. His tongue is doing absolutely magical things.

He grips Eliot's silky hair tightly and cants his hips forward. Eliot hums appreciatively and let's his throat go slack and his tongue go flat to accommodate the move. Quentin shuts his eyes tight and groans at the feel. Eliot's mouth really should be a national treasure.

He feels a sharp pinch at his thigh as Eliot shifts to regain control. He slurps as he pulls off of Quentin's dick, and he looks up with a grin as he leans over to flick the tip with his tongue teasingly.

"You okay?" He asks, and Quentin shudders softly before nodding. He supposes that Eliot continuously asks him that, because the first time they slept together, Quentin blamed him for the outcome. Like it wasn't a mutual decision and Eliot had tricked him. Even after that mess was all sorted out, or forgiven at least, Eliot had always made a point to get obvious consent before, during and after their…meetings.

That wonderful, hot, sopping mouth makes its way slowly back down the shaft of his cock, and he moans long and throaty in response. He keeps a grip on Eliot's hair, tugging and petting as he tries to calm himself down.

Normally, the petting tells Eliot that he needs a second. Just to regain composure and make the whole experience last a little longer. Eliot would pull off and kiss around his lower stomach until his breathing was less ragged. But this time, he doesn't.

Quentin's breath steadily becomes shakier as he tries to ignore the wonderful feel of Eliot's expert skill around his throbbing cock. He thinks of puppies, and nuns, and even throws in a particularly disgusting image of Mayakovsky fucking a fox, but he keeps coming back to the absolute perfect sensation between his legs.

And now Eliot is fondling his balls, and making short little moans that are so sexy, that Quentin can hardly think straight. Pun intended.

He groans loudly, his hips now moving in time with Eliot's perfect movements.

"El…" His voice is soft and raspy, his eyes closing tight again with one last effort to calm himself, make this last longer. But he fails.

He comes in short little bursts. Eliot holds his hips steady, as he sucks it all down, and Quentin lets out a slur of mumbled words as his balls release all they've got down Eliot's throat.

The moment Eliot pulls off, Quentin reaches down and pushes his thumb into Eliot's mouth, resting it on his tongue. Eliot opens his mouth, a grunt of confusion coming out before a second sigh of understanding. He widens his lips so that Quentin can see into his mouth, a coy little grin playing at Eliot's lips as he does so.

Quentin has to look every time. Just to make sure that Eliot swallowed it all. He's not 100% sure, but Eliot gets the vague idea that maybe no one ever swallowed for him before, so each time Eliot does it, it surprises the younger man. The look of utter awe on his face, tells Eliot that he's on the right track with his theory.

Eliot let's Quentin look for a few seconds, before crawling his way up to a standing position. Quentin is still looking down his throat, right up to the moment when Eliot connects their lips.

Quentin's breath catches at the stunningly soft feel of lips on his own. It's been a long time since he's kissed anyone. Even with all of the sex he and Eliot have been having, kissing was never part of it. Not lip to lip at least. And he never questioned it. If anything he was glad that it was just sex; nothing that could be misconstrued as emotional. Just raw sex; quick, sometimes rough and always so fucking good.

Eliot knew that kissing him at this point would be more than just a kiss. If they had kissed that first time he had made his way to Quentin's chambers, then it wouldn't be a big deal. Just part of their ridiculous, fucked up situation. But they hadn't kissed. They had done practically everything else, which made Eliot feel slightly like a whore fucking a John, but whatever, it had kept things casual.

But the overwhelming urge to press his lips to Quentin's was too powerful this time. The look of complete awe on his face, the way he would moan Eliot's name so softly, almost like a prayer, it was all starting to get to him. Even during regular day to day things. The way Quentin claps him on the back, or helps him put his crown on straight, which Eliot may or may not set askew on purpose just to get some contact. So maybe he's caught feelings. And so what? He's the High King of Fillory. He can do what he wants.

Quentin takes a moment before he kisses back. The natural order that they've fallen into has Eliot taking the lead on everything. Eliot is the one who makes his way to Quentin's chambers, he chooses the type of sex for the evening, he chooses how long it lasts and then he chooses to leave at the end of it. Every time.

But something stirs inside Quentin at the feel of those impossibly soft lips on his own. They're gentle and welcoming, and he thinks back to the first time he saw Eliot with that kid up in the clock tower during his first year at Brakebills. How Eliot had taken commands so easily.

He kisses back, letting all of his emotion and attraction toward the older man flow into it. He reaches to put a hand on the back of Eliot's head, and pulls him closer, gripping at the soft hair in the process. He straightens up, and nips at Eliot's lip before tugging gently at his hair to maneuver his head the way he wants it.

Eliot gasps at the sudden shift in charge, but he slips so easily into the role of a Sub that he hardly notices. Quentin pushes him back toward the massive bed, and Eliot falls back onto it the moment his legs hit the edge.

Quentin stands over him for moment, cocking his head to the side slightly in thought. He's never done anything so dominate before, but it feels natural, almost instinctual. He likes it.

He gives a meaningful look to the pants that are beginning to strain around Eliot's growing cock, and Eliot reacts instantly; removing them with practiced ease. Quentin doesn't have to mention the rest of the close, because Eliot removes them in the same motion and Quentin gives him a pleased smile.

And shit, because Eliot never realized how much he wanted to please him. He's pretty sure he'd do anything to make Quentin happy at this point. He reaches down slowly to squeeze his hard cock, keeping his eyes on Quentin to make sure it's okay.

Quentin nods and Eliot sighs at the feel of friction on his already leaking cock. He begins a familiar routine; twisting his wrist at the downward stroke and letting his thumb slide lightly over the slit every third or so stroke. He's panting now, and his eyes are heavy laded with pleasure, but the shock of Quentin's strong grip pulling his hand away causes him to gasp.

He looks up at Quentin, panting slightly still; his cock twitching slightly at the loss of contact. Quentin smiles conspiratorially, and leans down. Eliot can't even look. His eyes shoot to the ceiling as he feels Quentin's lips press soft butterfly kisses up his thigh. He's moving slow, easy. No rush at all, and Eliot's cock twitches again as Quentin's lips get closer and closer to it.

He shudders violently as cool air is directed at the tip, and a loud gasp escapes him. He looks down now, his eyes meeting Quentin's which have a light in them now. Eliot had a feeling Quentin might be the dominate type, but he'd never really given it a chance to show itself.

Quentin's lips were inches from his cock, and Eliot holds in a soft groan as he sees the slight move that could give him some contact again. Quentin lets the tip of his tongue move slowly up the shaft, and Eliot can no longer hold in the moan.

It's a teasing move, and it gives him little to no relief, but god, just the thought of what was happening is enough to make him leak more. Eliot's eyes have closed again, but they open when they feel pressure at his lips. Quentin has his fingers there, and Eliot opens his mouth instantly, allowing the younger man to push two digits into his mouth.

He sucks happily, humming and moaning slightly as his tongue works around the fingers eagerly. Quentin's other hand plays cautiously at Eliot's cock; his hand wrapping loosely around the shaft and pumping slowly. It's not nearly enough, but Eliot can't really think clearly, as he works at the task of sucking.

Quentin pulls away suddenly, and Eliot whimpers at the loss. He bites his lip to cut the sound off, because it is so far beneath him to beg or whimper.

He closes his eyes, tries to focus on his breathing, but then a cold, slick sensation is playing at his balls. Quentin is slowly moving his fingers downward, and Eliot instinctively opens his legs, his body trembling with anticipation as Quentin teasingly lets his fingers dance around his entrance.

He groans as one cold, slick finger pushes in and the low burn is so amazing that he almost chokes out a sob at the feel. God it's been such a long time since anyone's done this to him. The one downfall of being High King is that all of his little toys refuse to top. Not that he's complained, but oh it's so nice to let someone else lead for once.

He lets out a low rumble of pleasure as Quentin pushes in a second finger and picks up his pace. He's jabbing in slowly and Eliot grins as the younger King falters a little.

"Curl them." Eliot pants softly, and Quentin does and jesus that feels good! Quentin must have done some spell, because his fingers are sliding in easier now, and there's no way they'd do that with just spit.

Eliot is back to heavy laded eyes and Quentin is responding to his jerks and jolts perfectly, instinctively moving the way Eliot needs him to. The curl of his fingers are just barely brushing against his prostate, and Eliot is trying so hard not to shove his body down to get full on contact.

He's not prepared when Quentin grips his dick in his firm grip, and Eliot's mouth falls slack at the amazing feel. He guesses the same spell from before is providing the slickness on his dick, but he really doesn't have any patients to find out.

Quentin is grinning at him, and Eliot almost tells him to fuck off, but then Quentin tells him he's "doing so good." And butterflies erupt in his stomach at the praise. He wants to do good for Quentin. It's possibly the most important thing in the whole world for him.

He bucks up into the friction around his dick and then shoves down onto the penetration in his ass. It's all so good, and it's Quentin and he's telling Eliot that he's "such a good boy" and God Eliot is about to fucking cum.

"Q…" He says softly, through a choked sob "I'm gonna cum." The warning is barely a squeak, and he's barely finished saying it when Quentin curls his fingers in just the right fucking spot. Thick hot strings of cum are pouring from his cock, and he moans so loud that he's pretty sure the entire castle hears him.

It's a long time before Eliot's head isn't swimming anymore, and when he's finally able to look at Quentin, the younger man is just staring at him with that same look of awe that he has every time Eliot swallows.

"Enjoying the view?" Eliot says teasingly.

Quentin sniffs out a soft laugh and nods. "That was…"

"Incredible? Amazing? The best sex you've ever had?" Eliot offers.

Quentin makes a face. "Don't interrupt me." And he uses that strong, forceful voice that makes Eliot's cock twitch slightly.

"I was going to say, that was pretty fast for someone who boasts about sleeping with half of the men in New York."

Eliot frowns. Little shit. He should probably quip him about his shortcomings too….but he's pretty sure he's not supposed to speak yet.

"I guess you'll just have to prove to me that you can do better."

The look of absolute shock on Eliot's face, breaks Quentin's character for a second. But he recovers and gestures for Eliot to speak.

"You said I was doing _good_." He says it like a five year old, but he doesn't really care. Quentin _had_ told him he was doing good!

Quentin shrugs. "Yes, well 'good' isn't perfect is it?"

Eliot opens his mouth to respond but Quentin holds up his hand to stop him.

"We'll discuss it later." And that was that.

Eliot leans up on his elbows, and does a quick spell to clean himself up, but when he makes to get off the bed, Quentin shakes his head.

"Stay with me?" It's a question and Eliot would mock him about how non dominate it sounds, but he kind of wants to stay, and making Q mad would probably be counterproductive at this point.

He smiles and nods. "Of course."


End file.
